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I haven't closed the account, because frankly that doesn't really delete my info anyway and if people absolutely have to reach me that way, I can still (eventually) get the message. But I deleted all but a couple of pictures, notes etc. Also, I removed the ability for anyone but me to post to my wall or tag me in posts or pictures (without my permission anyway.)

I have moved to Google Plus that I love more and more. I have friends all over the political and religious spectrum, and we manage to have actual civil discourse about issues without the usual hateful remarks or flat out trolling. It's amazing! The downside is that my traffic to my blog is way down since so much of it was driven by Facebook. So I'm forging new paths on Google+ and using Twitter a bit more. It's coming back up, slowly. I'm keeping my blogs, my Twitter account, and LinkedIn. I'm only dropping Facebook - because honestly, it's only Facebook that pisses me off this much.

You can find my Google + profile here: http://gplus.to/marijohnson . Circle me, and if you let me know that you're a tango dancer, I'll share my circle of 200+ tango dancers in my circles for you to get started making connections. If you're just starting out with G+, please remember to fill out your profile and post a few times to make it easier for folks to know what you're about and circle you back.

The Friday night milonga a couple of weeks ago was both incredibly beautiful and, at times, intensely frustrating.

I
had several amazing, connected dances Friday with wonderfully patient
and generous gentlemen. La Tazza Fresca has a wonderful vibe that keeps
people coming back despite the hard, concrete floor that's murder on the knees. The sound system is a bit rough but the food and atmosphere are
fantastic.

The rough sound system plus the number of loud conversations along
the side of the dance space made it impossible at times for me to hear
anything but the strong rhythm of the music. The problem is, only part
of the frustration is the result of the venue. Most of it is me. I've
yet to write about it, and have talked about it very rarely, because as a
dancer I'm still embarrassed. I know better, but the little voice
always comes back . . .

If leaders know I can't hear - no one will dance with me.

I
have congenital Sensorineural Hearing Loss (when I was diagnosed as a
child, it was simply called nerve deafness.) It's worse in my left ear
than my right (and my eyesight is worse in my right eye than my left -
which was very disorienting growing up.) SNHL isn't quite like other
forms of deafness. I can still hear sounds fairly well - in some cases
very well. Mostly I have problems differentiating sounds - s's,
sh's, j's, and th's for instance. (Which makes Castellano challenging
for me.) High pitched sounds are tough. Voices are the hardest -
especially if I'm trying to follow a conversation when there are lots of
other conversations going on in the background. And yet I'm very
sensitive to loud noises - go figure. So it isn't that I can't hear the
sound, it's that if there is background noise especially, I have a hard
time hearing the smaller variations within the sound.

My hearing issues sometimes give me a bit of anxiety - which is why I haven't talked about it much. When I can't hear something, it's like I'm immediately transported
to grade school, struggling to hear the teacher among talking students.
Or understand dialogue in movies. I hate talking on the phone because it
makes the s/sh/th/j thing so much worse. And I don't have the benefit
of having the person's face to watch.

. . . but back to Friday night . . .

Wonderful music, warm, comforting leaders - yet I became increasingly
frustrated and anxious with my dancing because I couldn't hear the
softer components of the music. Tango music is beautiful to dance to
because there is so much going on in each song. Shifting melodies,
pauses - decorations to the music, that I can only hear when the ambient
noise is very low. (And let's face it - that's pretty rare.)

Hearing Through my Leader

Between songs in a tanda, I
had to have a mental reset. There is a way I cope with my hearing in
dancing tango. It's one of the biggest reasons I love the dance so much.
The trouble is it requires even a little more trust than I normally
give to my partner. I have to let go a little bit of my interpretation
of the music. I want to contribute and not just be moved around on the
pista, but if I can't hear the music well, I have another option. I can
let my partner provide the piece(s) that are missing.

It does make me
feel a little guilty. Like I'm making him do all of the work. I am
still listening to the music - I'm just listening through him. That night I felt like I needed to explain since I was sure my partner could feel my frustration - and I was so afraid he would think it was him causing the stress. He understood my situation, and what I was trying to do to remedy it. As usual, this tanguero was extremely supportive and I felt the weight lift a bit.

The author writes, "When the leader is musical enough, you can tune your body to respond to
the tiny changes in the way he prepares physically for each movement
and read in advance the exact cadence of his step."

That has been my experience. I also rely on this when my interpretation
of the a piece is profoundly different from my partner's. At that point, because I am following and not leading,
I make an effort to turn down my interpretation, and tune in more to
his body's response. I can feel the details in changes in my partner's
breathing, the flexing or relaxing of his hand on my back, how hard he
pushes into the ground with each step, the muscles tightening or
relaxing across his shoulders and back. All of that creates a picture of
the music overlaying my own. At times that Friday night, his picture
was all I had.

1.) It is very common that women in the class are there just to accompany men, but not to learn their own part.2.) The majority of students are men.3.) The level of followers in the city has dropped significantly compare to the leader's progress.

I bring these up, even though she is specifically speaking about
Washington DC, because these conversations are happening in tango
communities all over, even in Austin.
1. Are the followers slacking in class?

As to the first point, in Austin when I have been able to attend
workshops, I haven't noticed this to be true thankfully. In fact I've
overheard a great deal of frustration from followers when their partners
decide they'd rather work on something else during a class, and not
work on what's being taught. It's also not clear if the author, by
"learn their own part", means learn how to follow what's being led (by
which I mean reading your partner's body, listening for the potential in
the music, learn how to move your own body to make the sequence
comfortable/easier etc.), or simply memorize the pattern. To me, there's
a danger in just learning the pattern. If followers in a class only
memorize the pattern without actually learning how to follow it well,
chances are only the ladies in class will be able to "follow" the
pattern when leaders lead it at the milonga.
2. Where are the women?

The second point has come up several times lately - usually in the
form of, "why aren't there more women in the intermediate and advanced
classes?"

In fact, two people in one evening asked me why I
wasn't taking classes anymore and wasn't I worried about my technique
slipping. First of all, I'm not taking classes "right now" - it's not
that I'm not taking classes "anymore". There's a difference. There are
two major reasons for me, the same two reasons I've had for awhile. The
first reason is money. I simply don't have the funds for classes right
now. I've blown out two pair of shoes (hence the new pair) and with
Fandango de Tango Festival coming up, and I'm doubting I'll have enough
to even attend the milongas, let alone the workshops. I'm missing Murat
and Michelle's workshops this weekend for the same reason - and their technique and musicality teaching knocked my socks off last year.

The second is my health. I have to choose whether to take classes or
be able to dance socially, and you can bet when I have only enough
energy for one, I'm going to choose social dancing. That's what all the
classes have been for, after all. As far as my technique - I don't know
if it's slipping or not. If it is, and it certainly could be, I don't
know if it's lack of practice or lack of strength and stamina - or more
likely a combination of the two. I practice and exercise at home, to the
music, almost every single day. When I'm able, I go to practicas and
take privates because they seem to be the best use of my time and money.
If you're a leader who isn't satisfied with my level of technique, by
all means please stop asking me to dance.

So am I already losing dances because I'm not working hard enough?
There was an instance quite recently with very few people in the room (5
people - 2 were dancing) and I was the only woman available to dance.
The two gentlemen seated next to me gazed into their smartphones for the
entire tanda. Usually the use of the cabeceo and other social
structures prevent one from feeling rejection quite so acutely, but
there you have it. For whatever reason, they didn't want to dance with
me. Was it my technique? My "style"? My personality? I have no idea.
Does it sting? Of course. But it is what it is. Truly, I would rather
sit and be embarrassed then feel like someone was dancing with me who
didn't really want to dance with me. Feeling someone's disappointment
within the embrace is a much deeper hurt.

There is another reason, however, that I don't sign up for every
class I can. And this is a somewhat pervasive reason with several
followers I know (by no means the majority, however). Many classes,
especially pattern-based classes, are geared and tailored for leaders.
Not all, but many of them. The technique discussion and explanation is
geared for leaders. We often feel like we're just there for the leaders
to practice on. In some of the more "rigorous" classes - back/trap/combo
sacada classes, volcada/colgada/boleo combos etc., for instance, more
than one follower has told me they felt like a "crash test dummy" by the
end. Bruised, sore and grumpy. I know it's important for us to be
exposed to what's being taught, to see what's possible, to learn optimum
technique for following it, and to help leaders the best we can - but
it is frequently an expensive, exhausting, and sometimes downright
painful proposition. Sometimes it comes down to, do I want to learn
clever gancho/boleo combinations, or do I want to be able to dance
tonight?

When Jorge Torres was here, I went to all but one class that I had a
schedule conflict with - sitting through parts of them when I was too
tired to stand up anymore. When I can afford it, and when the material
is going to be technique focused, I'm happy to commit to it fully. I am,
however, very discerning in which classes I choose to spend my time,
energy and money.

3. Followers losing ground as a group?

As to the third point, I don't think the overall follower technique
is falling behind the leaders - but I'm not in the best position to
judge that, obviously. (It's funny because I've heard the same thing
from both sides - a few leaders complaining that followers aren't as
committed to technique as leaders, and followers saying that leaders
aren't putting in enough effort in their technique. Thankfully neither
is a common complaint.)

There are a lot of things happening at once lately in our community. We
have an influx of a lot of new people - several experienced dancers from
other communities, and lots of new beginners just getting their feet
wet. Our University Argentine Tango Club is doing an amazing job of
bringing new people into the fold. So it's hard to judge the overall
skill level of either leaders or followers as a single group. And
generalities can get you into trouble anyway. How can you be sure if the
dancer in your arms is "slipping in their technique" or if they're
working twice as many hours every week, and this all they've got to give
right now? Should they stop dancing until their schedule clears so they
don't risk disappointing anyone? How do you know it's not you? Or the
combination of their new workload and your new allergy medication? (I've
been part of that equation - it's a challenge. lol)
Conclusion

If any activity's skill level ought to be judged (if that's even the
right word or approach) on a case-by-case basis, it's tango.
Communities shift, change, experience growing pains. Stereotypes and
generalizations get in the way of seeing the person standing before us
as they are in this moment, in our arms.

Technically, these are street shoes. But I'm taking my teacher, Daniela Arcuri's advice, wearing shoes that fit and do the job well, regardless of the label inside. (Her exact words were, "I don't care if they come from Payless, if they fit well, support you, and slide easily, they work for tango."

The shoes have excellent arch support and shock absorption. While the sole is very sturdy, it is still flexible and I can lift my heel another inch or so off the ground when I flex my foot. The heel is set slightly forward, the same as my tango shoes. The heels are well balanced with no wobble. I thought the zipper heel was sort of gimmicky until I put it on and it conformed really well to my hard-to-fit narrow heel. (Plus my feet are significantly different sizes - the zipper actually helps with that.)

These are higher than any of my tango shoes, yet strangely just as comfortable as my most comfortable tango shoes (which are from Jorge Nel). I wore them all night Friday and Saturday night (finally trading them out for my dance slippers for my last tanda of the night when I was too tired to wear shoes of any kind) and had no pain, no blisters, no pinching.

Now the test is to see how long they last to the abuse dancing dishes out.

"Tango is a dance that is about a movement between here and there, about
an exchange between two bodies, about the pain of disconnection and the
desire for communication." Erin Manning, "Politics of Touch: Sense,
Movement, Sovereignty"

I keep trying to explain something that I have no good words for. I can't
even explain why it's so important to me to express it. Maybe this is
why so many people, when they are most passionate talking about tango,
throw their hands up and fall helplessly back to cliches.

Tango is a feeling that is danced.

I know that my own experience is coloring my judgment on the matter.
Maybe it's worse than that. Maybe it's my way of making excuses for
myself.

When I stand on the edge of the pista, my leader in front of me, I falter. I have just a second of flight response. I wonder what new way my body will conspire against my best attempt at a graceful dance.
I can't offer an athlete's body or myriad exquisite maneuvers to capture
every nuance of the music. My body sometimes feels slow, weighted -
suddenly uncoordinated. Some nights I can't even offer a solid axis.

So as I falter, my inner voice rattling away the things I cannot give, I remind myself of the one thing I can give . . .

Me.
All that I am in the moment - not what I can do, but what I am made of.

The miles walked to this place.
The sighs, the heartbeats, the tears, the peals of laughter, that brought me to this moment in your arms.

If you want it, I can give you that.
. . in my embrace.

And in return?
The same.

I've lied, really. I've always said that I'm easy to please,
which isn't true. I am demanding - and more demanding now than perhaps I
have ever been. Entrega. I want permission to give it, and I want it in
return. I didn't mean to lie - it seemed like it should be simple. Now I
know it's not. If it was hard for me to learn to surrender, why should I
think it would be easier for a leader to do it? But that's what it's
really all about for me.

Ultimately, I don't care about the shape of your body,
the precision of your lapiz,
the smoothness of your walk.
I don't care how you look,
or if your interpretation of the music is the same as mine,
or if you prefer Golden Age or alternativo . .

And . .

are you ready for this?

I don't care which embrace you prefer - close, open, fluid . . .

I'll admit it's far more rare to feel the connection I'm so longing for in an open embrace.
But it has happened.

So what do I want from you as a leader?
You. Your story. Not your teacher's story.
It's not about the steps you lead.
I can feel it in how you hold me.
Or maybe more importantly, why you hold me.

Dancing who you are isn't about your technique, though good technique
can keep our bodies from getting in the way of our soul's expression.
(1)
Dancing who you are is being relaxed enough to let me in.
I will hold you in my arms like you mean the world to me because, at least for the few minutes we get,
you do.

That's not what everyone wants from tango, I know.
And I'm finding that dancers are somewhat self-sorting in that regard.

Right now, that's where I am in my dance. That's what I long for. I'm so
lucky here that almost every night I dance, I find it. Often more than
once. For some reason that seems to make the times I can't reach my
partner all the more painful.

"What happens when you dance
totally? The dancer disappears in a total dance.
That's my definition of the total dance: the
dancer disappears, dissolves; only the dancing
remains. When there is only dancing and no
dancer, this is the ultimate of meditation - the
taste of nectar, bliss, God, truth, ecstasy,
freedom, freedom from the ego, freedom from the
doer. And when there is no ego, no doer, and the
dance is going on and there is no dancer, a
great witnessing arises, a great awareness like
a cloud of light surrounding you."
- Osho

(1) -The only reason for mastering technique is to make sure the body does not prevent the soul from expressing itself. - La Meri

It had been an evening of favorite music - I couldn't believe my luck. I
can't dance as often as I would like these days, and it seemed like I was
making up for lost time in warm, wonderful dances. A Rodriguez tanda
started and I was smiling so hard my face almost hurt. Halfway into the first song, my partner tried
a somewhat complex sequence and, in close embrace, it just didn't come
off. Once around the floor, he tried again, and again it didn't work
well. We shifted a bit, got back on track and continued. During the next
song, he broke the embrace and pushed me away, led the sequence
completely and then brought me back to close embrace.

I couldn't get the connection back. I can't think of any other way to put it than my feelings were hurt. To me it felt like he
put the "move" before our embrace. I didn't want to settle back against
his chest if he was going to just push me back out again.

I wish this
were a rare occurrence, but especially after workshops or a festival, it
becomes ever more common with lots of dancers. There is a difference, to my feeling, between
expanding an embrace to accommodate for comfort and/or musical expression -
and breaking the embrace to perform a pattern or a move. I can't
explain it well - it's just a feeling. There's a difference in technical
execution of course - how smooth you can make the expansion feel - not
too abrupt or sharp for example. But there is also a difference in how
the intention feels. As a leader, are you expanding the embrace for
comfort - or breaking it just to "do" something? Is the move you're trying to work
in worth making your partner feel like she's just an accessory to your
dance? If you're working on something that you can only really do in
open embrace then just leave the embrace open - or better yet, wait
until practica to "work on stuff."

Sometimes it's not even a matter of breaking the embrace that's the
problem - but the feeling that somehow the dance is flawed or worse,
ruined, if my leader can't get me to follow some move or pattern.
Ideally, when a move doesn't work, we just transition into something
else and keep going. With some of my favorite partners there's a mutual,
grinning "whoops" like kids playing a game. Not serious at at all - just
an opportunity to do something else instead. Sometimes though, far more often
than I'd like, I get a feeling of disappointment from my leader.
Disappointment in how he led something - disappointment that I couldn't
follow it. It doesn't matter if a leader thinks it's all his fault, or
all my fault, or somewhere in between - the feeling of disappointment
like that should have no place in a social dance. The worst part of that
feeling is that it's infectious - I end up unintentionally carrying it
with me to my next tanda. I get self-conscious and feel like I must be
dancing badly. I don't want to bring that mentality to my next leader -
it's not fair to him. It brings an unwelcome third party into the dance - a judge.

At practicas and in classes and lessons, I want to work - and work hard. I take my dancing, and my technique, seriously. But at the milonga, I want to dance socially. I'm there to connect with the music, my partner, my friends and relax. If things fall apart - they fall apart. So what? I'm not obsessing over my embellishments or the depth of my cruzado - why are you? This isn't an operating room. No one's going to lose a limb if the molinete doesn't work out. We're supposed to be getting away from the stress of our workaday lives, right? Can't we take a break from the constant evaluating and comparing we feel in our everyday world?